(Here’s a clue for the insurance company, it wasn’t me.)
I’ve always bragged about my driving record.
As with many, I started driving at the age of 16.
Granted, I’ve never traveled much cross-country
or in a foreign land, (such as Canada).
Still, no person of the law enforcement
has ever flagged me down on the highway.
I’ve always been quite proud of that.
Oh yes, there was that time in New Hampshire.
Returning to the campground where our fifth-wheel awaited;
my husband was tired so I was driving.
It was almost midnight.
You may wonder why the time would be of importance.
There were no cars to be seen on the road through town…(Manchester, New Hampshire.)
Trying to navigate the unfamiliar left hand turn at a cross section,
I didn’t see the traffic light.
It was blinking red, apparently.
However, the red flashing light of the police car
in the rear-view mirror caught my attention.
The traffic officer appeared at my window.
Why he was cruising this deserted road at mid-night,
I’ll never know.
“I didn’t see the light, officer”, I said.
“I was searching for the turn and guess I was preoccupied”.
He was very nice and quietly said,
“You’ll need to be more careful in the future”.
There was no ticket…whew!
Now let me think.
The only time I received a traffic ticket
was in 2013
I was traveling a nearby local highway,
apparently at the speed of 74 mph
55 mph zone.
A township officer, who was hiding in a nearby forest,
must have believed she had a live one,
and followed me persistently
until I pulled to the side of the road.
Informing me she had clocked me at 74 mph in a 55 mph zone,
she said “Don’t you have a cruise control?”
“Yes officer” I said, “but it doesn’t work”.
“I’ll have to write you a ticket”, she said.
Standing by the car she began to fill out the citation.
“I have not had a ticket since I started to drive at the age of 16,”
I said, smiling quietly.” I suppose I will have to quit telling my friends
I’m a “virgin driver”.
(I was quite sure she’d noticed my birth year of 1935
on the driver’s license.)
An understanding smile crossed her face; I’ve never figured out what it was that she was “understanding”…maybe it was something I said.
“I’ll just write the ticket for 60 mph.”
“But be careful you don’t get another within the next three years
or your insurance will increase.”
Thanking her profusely, I drove on my merry way,
silently cherishing my sense of humor
which was inherited from my Mother.
* * *
Last Monday I drove a few miles down the road to our local McDonalds to buy myself a Big Mac and an order of fries. Just as I left home, my son said “Pick me up a large strawberry shake”.
As I recall,
the Big Mac and fries
have never been seen again…but that’s another story.
As is my usual routine, I drove through the Wal-Mart parking lot in order to re-enter the main road at the stop light. It’s much safer.
The light turned green and I moved forward.
In the flash of a moment, I found myself on the far side of the road; about the same time that I felt something hit my left arm rather harshly. (It turned out to be the air-bag.)
A nice gentleman came over to the car
and asked me if I was all right.
“Yes, I’m fine”, I said.
(Later was when I found the scrapes and bruises and aches,
but I digress.)
A glance toward the dashboard on the passenger side revealed my glasses, which I had been wearing, sitting there. Now, that’s interesting. Wonder how they got over there.